You cannot choose the times you live in. Nor could the timing of this trip be changed. It turned out I was heading to Vyborg. A rainy day is no obstacle; Vyborg’s Old Town is beautiful in any weather—with its medieval houses, cobblestone streets, the bay, and the magnificent Vyborg Castle.
Market Square. Vendors sit idly in their stalls, and not all of them are even open. A crowd has gathered at one of the stalls—well, a crowd might be an overstatement; there are just a few people standing there. What are they buying? Souvenirs? No. Raincoats. Umbrellas would likely sell well on a rainy day, too.
There is a line on Krepostnaya Street. Visitors are waiting their turn to get into the Tavern. There is always a line here; even the rain couldn’t drive away the hungry tourists. What do they serve there? Something very cheap? Unlikely. Something very delicious? Possibly.
A rainy day. A weekday. Yet, there are quite a few tourists in the Old Town. They follow their guide in a flock, carrying their colorful umbrellas. Are they listening? Or not? Do they believe what they hear? It hardly matters. What counts is the process—the journey itself.
Tourists crowd the Old Town and Monrepos Park. Yet, if you step just a little off the beaten path, you’ll find very few of them. Few tourists make it to the Song Festival Field, Batareynaya Hill, the T-26 tank monument, or the Elk sculpture.
I wonder, do tourists actually buy boat tours when it’s raining? There’s plenty of water around as it is! Of course they do. A tourist is the sort of person who’ll take whatever is offered. Or maybe not? Tourists these days have become budget-conscious.
The Old Town, the bay, the rain—they’re there for everyone. A touch of romance?